Places We Have Been
by relaxovision
Summary: Seven days have passed since Mulan pulled her hand out of Aurora's chest. All that seems to be left is a phantom pain. A little angst. A little fluff. This is a prequel to Places Yet to Find.


**A/N: **It's been a year since I put my headcanon about Mulan/ Aurora/ Phillip into words. Yesterday I found an unfinished prequel to that story in my OUaT folder. So here you are.

Thanks for the support.

**.**

**Places We Have Been**

Seven days have passed since Mulan pulled her hand out of Aurora's chest.

Since then for Aurora it's like moments stretch to small eternities. They disconnect the two of them, and stretch the distance, too. It's like there's a phantom pain where her heart is beating. It's stealing her air, and it's making her head spin.

Seven days ago Mulan's smile was bright like the sun. Now silence settles between them like dark mist.

Until Aurora can't stand it any longer.

"Do you even care about me at all? This is all just duty for you isn't it? The moment we find Phillip you'll forget about me!"

She spits the words out like poison. Regret burns her tongue immediately. If her intention was to seek a conversation, she failed.

Aurora steps forward.

"Mulan…I…"

But the apology remains stuck in her throat when Mulan's face turns to stone, and when she turns her back and walks.

Aurora swallows bitterness and follows quietly. For the rest of the day she keeps a few feet distance.

.

The journey has worn her out. Aurora lost everything she ever had. She lost everyone she ever loved.

Now she's traveling through the Enchanted Forest with someone she barely knows.

That's what it feels like right now, at least.

Aurora is not used to silence. Even in her nightmares there's the sizzling of flames: It drowns out any other noise until Aurora can't remember the birds' song or the whistle of the wind. She can't remember the pouring of rain or the rustling of leaves. Her own name vanishes, too, during some nights. It's like water rushing away from the shore.

Then she wakes up, and like the water during the tides everything comes back: the rustling of leaves and the pouring of the rain, the whistle of the wind, and the singing of the birds—everything comes back—everything except the sound of voices.

All she wishes for is to hear someone speak. She needs those words to remember she's alive. She needs to hear her name—but Mulan rarely says anything.

Aurora thinks that maybe that's because she's useless. She's not physically strong, nor fast. She's not dressed for the woods, either. Most of the time she feels like a burden—especially when Mulan purposefully slows herself down for her sake.

She hates relying on her companion. All Aurora has is a heart beating true in her chest, and even that she owes to Mulan.

In the evening they sit by the fire.

Mulan stares into the flames. Aurora stares into the darkness.

It's the same dilemma every night: She can freeze or she can burn.

Tonight she compromises: Aurora's sitting far enough from the flames so the sparks won't reach her. Her back is turned to ice-cold blackness.

She's shivering, but the sizzling is there—penetrating her skin and sinking into her bones. Sleep is breathing down her neck.

Mulan sits a few feet away to the right, and she's crouching too close to the fire. She's poking a stick into the all-devouring redness as if dragons weren't real—as if her life wasn't at risk.

And then Aurora remembers: It isn't.

That hell is only for Aurora.

"Mulan," she starts. Her words, even though they're quiet, seem to echo through the forest. "About earlier…"

"Forget it," Mulan interrupts. "Let's focus on moving on."

The mission. Of course. It's always the mission! It's always Phillip, even when it's not about him at all. Disappointment and anger churn Aurora's stomach. Like a vile creeper they grow and grow until the thorns of twine prick her throat and cloud her thoughts.

"If I were gone you wouldn't have to keep on moving."

Her voice is steady now and tinged with the toxin of that ivy in her guts.

She has thought about it, though—often. She thought about running away while Mulan was resting.

She could go and find Phillip on her own. Or she could die on her journey. Either way, the burden of being someone's burden would be lifted from her shoulders. Surely it'd be easier to create silence, too, all by herself.

"What are you saying?"

Now she's got Mulan's attention. Aurora feels her stare branding her cheek, but she refuses to look back.

"Oh, that's nice!"

Aurora flinches when Mulan's words strike her bitter, as well.

"So you did mean what you said this morning."

No, she didn't. Aurora's worries lie elsewhere.

The silence stretches, and her thoughts turn darker. It's not anger that's eating at her.

"You've been of great help to me," she says. Her voice is almost wistful, but mostly heavy with sadness.

"You fought too many battles for me already. And if it was to keep your promise, you've done well. You saved my life. You kept me safe throughout our journey until now. You undid damage that was done to me."

Her smile is bitter, but she means every word she says.

"I do not wish to be your responsibility any longer."

She watches the flames lick blackness. It's a dangerous invitation.

Then she hears Mulan's voice tremble:

"My promise is not fulfilled until Phillip is with you again. I swear, if I have to carry you through the forest, and if I have to fight the Wraith with my bare hands, and if I have to fight your stubbornness, too, then I will—every day from now until my purpose is none."

Aurora swallows then, and she says nothing.

.

The next day they encounter a group of bandits: five men in ragged clothes; their knives being their only possession.

They reek of stomach acid and of death. And they fight like men who have seen madness.

Mulan is a warrior.

Aurora watches her slit a man's throat before the battle has even begun. He gurgles and falls, and keeps lying where his cheek touches the ground.

When another one jumps behind Mulan she turns her sword backwards and jolts it through his chest without even looking back.

Aurora doesn't have time to breathe.

She takes a few steps back, and blinks, and every time she opens her eyes again there's more blood everywhere.

Finally, the silence is back—it's deafening. Aurora crouches and presses her palms to her ears. At least this way there'll be her heartbeat confirming that she's still alive.

She starts when Mulan touches her shoulder. It's a gentle touch with only two gloves fingertips, but it's too much. The bodies lying in crimson puddles—it's too much. Missing home, missing sleep, being tired, fearing sleep, missing words—it's all too much. She sees Mulan kneeling down in front of her and stands up.

Her voice sounds like that of a stranger when she suggests they move on. She dodges Mulan's hand this time, and is proud of herself when she doesn't cry.

.

That night the fire is hotter than ever. Aurora drowns in a sea of flames, and she's stuck between suffocation and incineration. She hears Phillip yelling accusations. How could she let him die? She sees Mulan standing out of reach, her face a mask. She's raining spite upon the princess. Then they both vanish and take all other sound with them. It's the ultimate punishment.

The fire stops sizzling. Instead it consumes her—slowly, quietly. It's exactly like being awake.

Maybe if she held her breath it'd finally be over.

The stars are blurry before Aurora reaches up to rub her eyes. She sighs and blinks away the darkness as cool air penetrates her lungs. An owl hoots in the distance and reality comes into focus: There's the ground beneath her, hard and unforgiving; there's the fire just out of reach; there's the small tent Mulan insisted to build, which blocks Aurora's view into the forest but not towards the camping space.

She tries to turn around, but feels unusually heavy. And when Aurora looks down there's Mulan's cape and part of her armor covering her body.

Her eyes seek out Mulan on their own accord, and it's only then that she realizes her guard is sitting close by on a log.

On other nights Mulan would poke the fire, or pace the area. She's always on the look-out, always ready to fight. Sometimes she'd watch Aurora drift off. And when Aurora woke up, Mulan would always be the perfect knight, standing fast, with her brows furrowed, and one hand at the sheath.

Now Mulan is sitting on a log, and her beige cotton shirt hangs loose from her shoulders. She's let her hair down, and one naked palm is covering her mouth. The black leather gloves lie to her feet. Mulan's not crying, Aurora notes, and then she realizes that she's considered that a possibility. Of course Mulan has—must have—suffered loss as well. The war and then the curse cost lives in every family. But the thought that the reserved warrior would cry seems…. well, devastating.

Aurora winces at the thought. If Mulan broke down that would mean all hope is lost. For she'd never let on how serious their situation is. She'd never show her own pain, and she'd always try to move—move on. Suddenly Aurora is relieved that Mulan doesn't cry. And then she understands.

She shoves off the breast plate and wraps the red cape around herself to make her way towards Mulan. When she sits down next to her, Aurora doesn't get a reaction.

Her voice is humble when she says:

"Thank you. You always did what you thought best, and you protected me better than anyone else could have. And I'm sorry for lashing out at you."

And Mulan takes her palm from her lips, and opens the other, which was clenched to a tight fist. It reveals a silver ring on a chain. They stare at it together.

"I was in love once, too", Mulan says, then adds a bitter laugh. "Hard to believe now. That was such a long time ago. It was long before I even met Phillip—long before I met you."

Aurora can't will her eyes from Mulan's face. Her mind is a whirlwind, but even now Mulan seems calm. The fire makes her skin glow in the colors of autumn leaves—now gold, then bronze—but always warm. The warrior in her is but an afterthought, and Aurora has the sudden urge to sit even closer to the woman next to her. She shifts two inches. Not more.

"I failed. I was at war, and when I came back… it's only ever been me since then. I failed…", Mulan sighs and for a second Aurora thinks she's going to cry after all. "I failed… _her_."

She closes her hand around the ring again. Her nails bite into the skin.

"I'm not going to fail you, too."

Aurora watches the flicker in Mulan's eyes flare up and burn out. Then she realizes their fire has died. Mulan attaches the chain to a ring on her belt and slips her treasure into a hidden pocket. When she moves to stand up Aurora touches her elbow.

"I feel safer without the fire", she says, and though it's one truth, the other is that she doesn't want the moment to end. She's not surprised that Mulan complies.

"You helped wake me from my curse. You watch over me when I'm trapped in my nightmares. You fought for my heart, you kept it safe, and you returned it to me."

Aurora pulls the cape tighter around herself, then remembers it's not her own. Her mind flashes back to the moment in that cave when she was tied up, exposed to anyone who'd get a hold of her heart. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there. She didn't know if anyone would come back for her. It could have been Cora. It could have been Hook.

"Ever since I was born", she says "People have been keeping me in the dark. In their attempt to protect me they have made me vulnerable. They have made me weak. They have taken everything from me—everything; my freedom; my autonomy; my right to choose. Malificent took Phillip, and she took my life. Then the Wraith took Phillip again. And finally Hook took my heart. You are the only one who ever gave me back what's mine, and you never asked for anything in return."

She closes her eyes and feels Mulan's hand around her heart again. She feels her reaching through her chest. In that moment they were connected.

And she revels in the relief upon seeing Mulan come back to her, victorious once again, without even a scratch. Even now the cape around Aurora's shoulders is like a protective shield. Mulan keeps Aurora safe, and her worries seem so foolish.

And yet, panic crawls through her like ants whenever all sound around her dies. She craves that connection she had with Mulan. It's almost like if it were to be cut completely, her heart would wither and die.

"You could never fail me. All I need from you is that you talk to me."

Finally Mulan turns her head to face her, and their eyes meet in the dark. Suddenly Aurora feels like an intruder, but the prospect of continuing their journey in silence weighs her down and eats her up from the inside.

Mulan says:

"I miss her. A lot. And I think that if I had been more careful, maybe she would still be with me. She was the only person who knew me. Who knew I am a woman."

Except that Aurora knows that, too. But of course that's different. The army Mulan fought for is long gone. That girl who had to hide beneath her armor is long gone. Aurora imagines holding hands in the dark and whispered words of love in darker alleys. Her heart aches and it's like Mulan can feel it, too, because she continues:

"It's futile. I know that. But it's not too late to protect you. It's not too late for you to be happy. I will get Phillip back for you. I will."

There are a thousand different things Aurora wants to say, but however she twists the words they all sound dismissive. So she does the only thing she can think of: She leans forward and kisses Mulan's cheek.

"I know you will."

They sit together until dawn, with Mulan's cape draped around the both of them. They share what they have: Words, little smiles, and the comfort of being together. In a way it's like Mulan's grip around Aurora's heart has only become stronger now.

And the way Mulan looks at her, she must know, too.


End file.
